This Little Child of Mine
by ElizabethLestrade
Summary: A continuation of Wanted: Criminal Dynasty, in where Holmes is an expectant father, Moriarty has a bundle in the oven, two women are set to deliver the beginnings of a family fued, and poor Watson is just trying to keep the peace.
1. Prologue

**Authors Note: **Guess who's back? Back again! Yes, I'm back with a brand new rap…er story. Forgive me, but I like Eminem, and have been listening to his early music a lot lately. By popular demand, I have delivered a prologue to the sequel that I have started on. I apologize for the delay, but work and school do not go together very well, in so much as they take up my time to be doing more useful things, like writing! I will give a more complete Introduction when I post up the first official chapter. In the mean time, please enjoy, please review, and please be patient! I'm typing as fast as my little fingers will allow me to…when I'm actually home!

**Prologue**

"Sherlock…I'm pregnant."

It was one of those quiet moments where the air felt stuffy and the room seemed to close in on itself**. **Beth hated silences like that; she'd rather a room full of yelling and arguing over any kind of quiet such as this.

_At least he's not running for the hills…yet. _Lestrade peered at her lovers face, trying to see through any kind of feeling that may be running through him at the moment. She could find none. His face was porcelain as ever, cobalt blue eyes stared at her unblinking, and his lips, which normally twitched when he was thinking hard about something, were completely unmoving. Not even his jaw was clenched abnormally tight. There were no wrinkles on his forehead. His face was simply expressionless.

She ventured his name again. "Holmes?" She hated how unsure she sounded. This was exactly what she was afraid of. Beth remembered stories her mother and aunts would tell her about her father finding out his wife was With Child. For example, Officer Lestrade had left the house for a full night on the news that her mother was pregnant with her brother, Matthew. When a daughter was expected, Charles was known to fret about the thought of yet another child in the house, and had been decidedly against having a third when Helen Lestrade brought up the possibility.

His name was about to fall from her lips again when he rose from the couch, leaving her side and walking slowly over to the burning fire in the hearth, a move which nearly broke Beth's heart. He wasn't happy. No joy whatsoever. It wasn't that Lestrade had been aching for a child herself, but her stomach clenched with the knowledge that her lover seemed less than enthusiastic at her news.

"How far along are you? How did you…How long have you known?"

Beth swallowed. "It's why Moriarty couldn't…." God, but she didn't even want to think about that. "Moriarty hired a doctor to examine me…you know, before the procedure. When the Doc ran the bio-scanner on me…that's how I found out. Moriarty told me. 'Precisely four weeks and three days'." She swallowed, indigo eyes falling down cast to the settee. "He was about as thrilled as you are," she murmured, not able to keep a small amount of bitterness out of her voice.

He must have heard it, because he whirled around and now his face reflected a wide variety of emotions; confusion and shock that she could say something like that, embarrassment that there was something he must have done to cause her to think that he was anything but happy…and a small amount of anger that she had such little faith in him. Beth swallowed. It was difficult to catch him off guard like that; to see him so vulnerable and open.

"I…there are options, I suppose, if-if you don't-"

He moved so fast that she couldn't finish the sentence. He was back by her side in what seemed an instant, holding her face in his hands and resting his forehead against hers. "Do not finish that thought," he commanded, "I'll not hear it. I don't even want you thinking it." His hands fumbled downwards to find hers and clasp them gently. "I've never fancied myself being a father, Beth; the thought never occurred to me. In all honesty, I never thought I'd be a particularly good one given that my father was rarely around to raise myself or my brother…but I don't want you to take that to mean that I do not want this child."

Lestrade blinked. "You mean you're…you're okay, you know, with…this?"

A grin that rivaled all others he'd shown for any past situation, be it capturing a criminal or figuring out a puzzle spread across his face. Beth couldn't help but return it, for she also saw something else that was always apparent on Holmes; pride. But this pride was different. He stood up and tightened his hold on her hands, pulling her up so quickly that she instinctively hopped into his arms. He secured them around her tightly. "I shall confess to you that I am, as you fondly say, _zedding terrified_."

Beth chuckled against his shoulder and tightened her grip on him. "That makes two of us."

"And I am completely uncomfortable with the idea of a melded version of you and myself coming into the world."

Beth pulled back at that, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Why?"

"My dear Elizabeth, I do believe when you tell Chief Inspector Grayson that you are With Child and I am the father, you will receive a very similar sentimentand perhaps the statement that 'the world is not ready'-but none the less, as unprepared and- dare I say- unconfident as I am at the prospects of being a father, I must also admit that I am entirely excited about it as well." Holmes's hand snaked around the back of the woman's neck to pull her forward, kissing her softly and languidly. He felt her smile against his mouth.

"Y'know, it's actions like this that got us where we are today."

"Tonight," Sherlock corrected, pulling away and resting his head against hers. The next words out of his mouth were so soft and full of feeling that Beth had to swallow what might have been the fifth lump in her throat in the past twenty-four hours. "I cannot think of a better woman to be 'here tonight' with."

Beth half laughed, half sniffled in response. All she wanted to do was hide her head in his neck and not come out for the next eight months, but she knew that was impossible. She was in the process of getting herself under control when Holmes spoke again, his hands traveling up and down her back in an effort to comfort and steady her.

"I love you very much, Elizabeth. I don't say it often enough. I am more grateful than you will ever know that I can say it to you now."

Lestrade had held up well over the past three days. But now that she was safe, and in Holmes' arms in his flat, and had heard those words with a tenderness she'd never received from him before, it was enough, _more _than enough, for her to release the fear that had been building inside her since she was taken. Her whimpers started out quietly enough, as there was still a part of her that screamed to save her pride. But those screams eventually gave into the sobs that fell out of her, her skin crawling with the shakes of vulnerability that she hadn't felt since she was a girl herself.

And there was Sherlock, always there, holding her up for as long as she needed until her voice quieted and her body became limp with exhaustion. Eventually, she was staring at the fire in front of her, her fingers playing with a stray thread they'd found on the fabric of Holmes' shoulder. "You know…" she said suddenly, mouth muffled slightly by her cheek resting on his collarbone, "I don't even know if I want a girl or a boy…I don't know what kinds of names I like, or if I should have a nursery like Mom had for me and Matt, or who to name as God Parents, or-"

She stopped speaking, hearing and feeling the deep chuckle of Holmes beneath the side of her face. "We have eight months to answer all of those questions, Beth." His hands, which had been having a soothing effect on her back for the past few minutes drew themselves around to rest on her waist as he stood back. "I do believe there's something else we should perform first, before any other steps are taken to welcome our son or daughter into this world."

"What's that?"

"Funny you should ask," he quipped, removing himself from her side and walking into the hallway. Beth could hear him rummaging around his room, and she imagined he would be there for quite a while as Sherlock Holmes was not one for keeping a tidy home, so she sat herself on the couch and wiped her face, knowing it was streaked with splotches from the tears shed earlier. But she was already feeling better, and she was glad for that, because her old impetuous impatience was starting to come out as she looked around, hearing various objects being thrown this way and that in the master bedroom. She twisted herself on the couch and looked over the back of it. "Holmes, what are you doing?"

"Just a moment!"

Lestrade clicked her tongue and shrugged, leaning against the back of the sofa, gathering the blanket that had been retrieved around her middle, which her hands rested upon once more. Beth had never really had any ambitions to become a mother; she'd never thought about it really, but she always wondered why women placed their hands over their stomachs when they were pregnant. Oh, she figured that it was just a comfortable stance in which to rest, but she was finding that each time she placed a hand on her tummy, she felt a little closer to the life growing inside of her…

"Ah, here we are." The detective strode back into the living room, confidence once again accompanying his step as he rounded the couch and stood in front of her. "You will, of course, remember that the anniversary of my asking to court you will be coming up shortly."

Beth grinned. "What did'chya get me?" But Holmes, not to be rushed, wagged his finger at her. "Patience, Lestrade. One cannot be hasty dealing with delicate matters such as this." He placed his hand back in his pocket, only to bring it out again, but this time it was holding something.

A small, navy blue velvet box.

"You needn't answer now, and you must know I am not asking you because of your current condition. I had planned a bit of flare with a surprise dinner next weekend, but…" he shrugged, kneeling in front of her, opening the lid and showing her a plain, gold band with a single diamond set upon it, "situations being what they are and selfish as I may be for doing this now…" he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders, watching her face carefully. It was slightly pink, partially from the fire, and a little from her current emotional state; yet the light from the hearth danced on her pale features divinely**. **He saw the diamond shimmer in her eyes and was warmed beyond anything to witness a stunned smile on her face.

"You must know it would do me the greatest honor and give me the greatest happiness if you agreed to be my wife."

It had been sized perfectly, Beth discovered as she slipped the ring on without any hesitation and gazed at it on her finger. In fact, it only further illustrated how well Holmes knew her. It wasn't ornate by any means; it wouldn't cause a stir, but that was exactly what she wanted. She'd been proposed to once by an old boyfriend in college. The ring he'd gotten her had been quite expensive to say the least, beset with diamonds throughout a band of white gold, with the biggest jewel being larger than her finger nail.

The man couldn't believe it when she'd said no.

Without a word, she tackled Holmes to the floor, settling herself on him as she gave her answer with a hearty lip lock. She pulled back, a smirk on her face.

"Just in case you didn't figure that out, Detective, my answer is yes."


	2. Reassignment

**Authors Note: ** And here we are again! This is the official beginning to the sequel of Wanted: Criminal Dynasty. I realize that the time line may be confusing to some people, so I'm going to give a guide on where we are presently.

**Timeline: **It is currently **July of 2108**. Sherlock Holmes and Beth Lestrade dated from **April 2107** till **April 2108**, at which time Beth discovered her pregnancy. They were married shortly after and have been in wedded bliss for about three months now, having been united in May sometime. At the end of this chapter, Beth is beginning her **18****th** week of pregnancy (**4 ½ Months With Child). **And don't forget, there's another woman pregnant as well; Annabelle Wilson is 6 weeks pregnant with her child, and yes, there will be a meet up (or two) between the camps of good and evil.

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Watson, or James Moriarty. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own Inspector Elizabeth Lestrade. She belongs to DIC. I DO however own Annabelle Wilson and whatever children are procured from these pregnancies and the characters that will be created there in! This story is not being made for profit!

**This Little Child of Mine**

"You're putting me on _what?_"

Inspector Elizabeth Lestrade's eyes flashed dangerously, and it shouldn't have been the desire of anyone to be on the receiving end of such a look, but there was Chief Inspector Charles Grayson of New Scotland Yard, sitting in his comfortable chair in his private office, doing exactly that.

"Lestrade, you're four months pregnant! You're going int' your second trimester, an' bein' that I 'ave a wife an' children, I know how tha's gonna go! Not to mention the fact tha' you're starting t' show your weight…" Grayson tapped a few keys on his flat face desk computer without glancing up at the increasingly irate woman in front of him. "Pretty soon your feet are gonna start hurtin', your back'll be killin' ya, you'll want all different kinds a'food, an' if all _that_ wasn't bad enough, I give it another month before ya start draggin' out your ionizer an' threatenin' people t' get in your way!" The Chief Inspector risked a quick look up, taking in his subordinate's obviously very heated glare, but his mind was made up.

"I might drag out that ionizer now," she muttered through gritted teeth, crossing her arms angrily. "Whose idea was this anyways?"

Wisely, Grayson did not answer that question. After all, he was married and as much as he complained about Holmes' rather eccentric personality and modes of operation, he now felt an odd kinship with the other man that he couldn't explain. He remembered what his own father used to say about situations like this: _We men need to stick together in times like this, son! No matter how you feel about the other guy, feeding him to his lion of a wife is just wrong._ as Grayson stole another peek at the inspectors' stance and all around seething disposition, he was compelled to describe her as more of a praying mantis prepared to sup on her mate than a lioness.

"Look, Lestrade; it's only a temporary desk job, and it's not like you don't 'ave mounds o' reports that're waiting for your retellin' and filing." Grayson sighed and got up from his chair, walking around the desk and standing in front of what he considered to be his best inspector. "Trust me Beth; in a few weeks, you're gonna be thankin' me for this."

Lestrade snorted. "I'm not so sure it's _you_ I have to thank for this, Chief." A flick of his eyes down and to the left was all it took to confirm Beth's suspicions. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Alright. Fine. But if you and my _dear husband_ wouldn't mind letting me know when you're going to start making my decisions for me…" she left it there as she stalked out of the office in a huff, making a bee line for what most supposed was a desk underneath the mountain of books (she was the only one that actually read anything on paper) food supplement wrappers, and various data pads. She glanced at the chronometer atop her computer monitor. It was only 1430**, **but she'd had more than enough fun at the office for one day. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Lestrade punched out two and a half hours early on her own free will and headed for the elevators without so much as shouting a good bye to those she passed, which was quite unlike her.

Oh yes, she and _the man_ were going to be having quite the nice little chat when she got home. How _dare_ he contact Grayson behind her back and tell him to assign her desk duties? Had the world's greatest detective lost his marbles? Was he suddenly not playing with a full deck? _Not that he ever _was_playing with a full deck to begin with…_

A small voice insideher head suggested it was possible that she was over reacting, but such a thought was the absolute last thing Lestrade wanted to entertain. She wanted justice, dammit! Normally, she loved Holmes' Victorian Decorum; oftentimes she found it funny, pleasing, and charming, but this time…this time, she didn't find his sly move to be any of the above**.**

The elevator released her into the cruiser holding bay and she stalked towards her vehicle, fishing her identity key out of the pockets of her uniform and pressing the security button to deactivate the alarm system. Most of her friends at NSY found it hysterical that she used the security system on her cruiser in the police parking bay, but Lestrade wasn't about to take any chances. She knew what the criminal element was capable of in New London, and the last thing she needed was to come down to the holding bay and find her cruiser missing because one of the security officers had decided to take a nap in the guard booth…

Lifting open the hatch, Lestrade slid into the seat and closed up the cruiser. Turning everything on, she lightly activated the thrusters and switched to manual piloting. After the conversation she'd just had, she was going to need to feel some kind of control. That was the very thought on her mind as she shot out of the holding bay and into the aerial traffic of New London,steering the cruiser towards Baker Street, and home.

Oh the roof she would bring down upon his head! Her fingers gripped the flight controls as she maneuvered the cruiser down and into another lane of traffic, her normally impatient nature having increased tenfold as of late. Yes, some of it was due to the hormones surging throughout her body, but at the moment, it was the fault of a rather maddening detective that seemed to think _he_ knewhow she should handle her own pregnancy better than she did!

For instance, her condition certainly had no bearing on whether or not she could still handle barrel rolls in mid air! Her stomach hardly lurched as she performed one to dive out of another lane of traffic and onto an exit that would lead her to Holmes's flat. Her mouth smirked slightly as she evened out and continued over the roof tops of various apartments and shops, until she found the one she was looking for. Roughly, Beth settled the cruiser on the pavement below and powered down the vehicle, hopping out immediately afterwards and placing the security system in the ready position. Stealing a glance up at the window, she endeavored to see if her husband was home, but couldn't see anyone sitting in the chair placed next to the glass.

Fine. If he wasn't home, she'd stew in her own anger.

Her feet hit the steps hard, and Beth was positive that if Holmes or Watson were there, they could hear her from the farthest rooms in the apartment.

"_Sherlock Holmes!"_ Her voice thundered throughout the flat as she opened the door and slammed it shut behind her. Looking around she didn't see any sign of him, but as she glanced to her left, she saw his trademark deer stalker and Inverness cape hanging exactly the way they had been when she'd left for work that morning. He was hard pressed to go anywhere without those two items, and it led her to believe that Holmes hadn't been out of the house all day.

Or that he wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible. Clicking her tongue, she stomped over to the closet and ripped the door open. Sure enough, the trench coat she'd bought him for their anniversary was no longer there. Beth literally growled, shoving the door shut. Donning a gift he hadn't worn since she'd gotten for him was _not_ going to save him, not matter what he thought.

"Ah, Inspector Lestrade!"

Watson's familiar and friendly voice echoed into the living room and for a moment, the woman's anger was abated, though only for a moment. The good doctor came out of the kitchen, carrying with him a tray of tea and crumpets as he had taken to doing when the inspector was usually scheduled to come home.

When the inspector was usually scheduled to come home…

Almost instantly, Beth found her fury again as she sidled up to Watson, who placed the tray on the table in front of the settee. "Watson."

"Do have a cup of tea, Inspector, you seem rather frazzled today."

"_Watson_."

"Perhaps some of these biscuit; have you eaten yet?"

"Where is he?" Beth's smile was tight as she sat on the sofa and crossed her legs, but this motion only reminded her of the baby growing inside, which in turn served her brain to recollect why she was home at ten to three on a weekday afternoon.

"Holmes? I haven't the faintest."

"Your lying hasn't improved with time, Watson."

"No doubt you are angry with Holmes making a request to the Chief Inspector in regards to your current work portfolio."

"Well yeah, I am a little piss-wait a second, you _knew_ he was gonna do that?" Lestrade's mouth was agape as she stared at the compudroid, who merely shrugged as he poured her a cup of steaming hot tea and handed it to her. Not knowing what else to do, she took it, heaving a great sigh as her back leaned against the soft cushions of the couch. "So, I guess you can tell me what possessed him to make such a ridiculous move then, huh?"

"No possession other than his unyielding love for you and the concern any soon-to-be father would feel for the health and wellbeing of his wife and child."

Lestrade actually felt a few pangs of guilt begin to stab her at her heart, not to mention the exhaustion starting to prick at her feet, and her mind floated to what Grayson had said in his office earlier that day. She shook herself back into the conversation. "Okay, fine. So I've been feeling a little more tired than usual and maybe I haven't been as active, but that doesn't mean Holmes gets to call my boss behind my back and run my life!" She leaned forward and placed the tea cup on the table with more force than meant, and some of the liquid spilt out and onto her hand, making her hiss at the slight burning sensation. Watson only looked on, knowing that the hurt was superficial. It was her pride that was smarting most, presently. She took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself before speaking again.

"Where's he at anyways?"

"Holmes?" Watson smiled. "Wisely, he stepped out, almost immediately after speaking with the Chief Inspector. I believe his exact words were, 'I shall allow Beth some time to acclimatize to her new position before I see her tonight'".

"Well, that was _swell___of him," Beth grumbled, settling back against the sofa and slumping slightly. "I thought being married was supposed to be all about communication and honesty and all that mumbo jumbo."

"Quite right, Inspector Lestrade. However, I also believe marriage is about staying alive; I have the feeling that if Holmes had come out of the kitchen rather than myself just now, he would have seen the beginnings of a very rough evening ahead of him."

Well, Lestrade couldn't deny that. She'd had half a mind to take the man's head right off his shoulders. Not literally of course, but enough so that he would never thinking of doing something like this ever again, in _any_ lifetime.

"When will he be home?"

"Later this evening, I'd expect. I believe he said something earlier this morning about perusing furniture for the child's nursery."

"This morning?" Lestrade frowned. "But he was awake all night! What was he still doing up this morning, he should have been sleeping!" She stood up in a huff and paced the floor, hands on her hips and more frustrated now than she had been when she'd first come home. "He expects me to sit behind a desk for the next five months because I show a little fatigue, and yet, he thinks it's perfectly all right to stay up the entire night and all through the morning to go _shopping_? That's the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?" Her hands ran through her ever-growing hair and she groaned. The last thing she wanted to think about was needing to get a haircut. Again.

Apparently the burst of hormones from her pregnancy was doing all kinds of things for her body. For instance, she found herself trimming her nails at least once a week, sometimes two. Her hair had grown at least three inches since she'd first discovered her condition. Her skin had a healthier glow to it, not that it hadn't been lovely and clear beforehand. And, as she had been 'advised' and Holmes had been 'warned' by her obstetrician, Dr. Novak, she had an increased sexual appetite, though by now that thought was the furthest thing from her mind and had been replaced by fantasies of shoving Holmes into a crypnotizer programmed to disallow any further meddling by him in her career in any way.

Watson continued to remain silent, simply looking at her, a sympathetic look on his face. Though he agreed that Elizabeth should be out of the field and in the safe confines of the New Scotland Yard headquarters, he didn't agree with how his long time friend had gone about making his opinion known. Then again, this was Sherlock Holmes, and he was nothing if not eccentric and extreme.

"Perhaps a nap, Inspector?" Watson suggested. "You may find yourself in better spirits when you awaken."

"No," but a yawn escaped her before Beth could stop it, "I just…I love him, Watson, I really do. But he drives me insane sometimes, you know?"

"I know it very well. You both drive each other to the brink of madness." The doctor smiled fondly at her. "It is what makes you two so right for one another. As irritating as his manner of handling the current situation is, you must always remember that he desires nothing but the best for you…and the child."

"I know," another yawn once again made itself plain, and this time, the inspector didn't even bother to hide it, "maybe I'll lie down on the couch until he comes out of hiding." A chuckle was her response and she made her way back over to the settee while Watson began cleaning up. "Leave it, Watson. You're not our maid; I'll clean it up in a second."

"Don't be ridiculous, inspector. Whilst Holmes has no cases and you are out of the field with no pressing business of your own, I am happy to do whatever I can to make your life easier!" Lestrade smiled fondly at the droid and rested her head on a pillow. Her eyes were already closing when Watson, having returned from the kitchen, placed a blanket over her. By the time he left the room again, Beth was sound asleep.

**Chapter 2**

A slight shiver of trepidation shot through Holmes as he settled his hover coach behind his wife's cruiser. He expected that she would be lying in wait when he returned home, but that did nothing to ease the small yet substantial tremor that was settling itself in his stomach. But, he was a man resigned to his fate. He knew that it would take almost no brain power at all for Beth to figure out that it was he who had called Grayson and requested that she be taken off field duty; but he had been hoping that she wouldn't figure it out quite so soon, or that she would be home quite so early.

However, that was the reason he'd left immediately after a video conference with the good Chief. Holmes took no chances, not with his work, nor with his finances, and definitely _not_ with his wife. He might have been living in an entirely different time, but he knew the affairs of married life had not changed much over the course of two centuries. It was true that in governmental, political and religious matters men had substantial control, but all that power ended once the man set foot in the house, where the wife was the head of all she surveyed.

He suspected it was for this reason that he rarely saw his father when he was growing up. His mother could be a sufficient tyrant when the mood suited her, and that was practically all the time. Unfortunately for her, she never eased out of that behavior and applied her firm grip to every aspect of her life, including her husband and her children.

He stepped out of the hover coach and secured it, looking from the vehicle to the steps which led up to his apartment and almost a certain tirade from a certainroyal-eyed inspector. Maybe he would get lucky, and she would only be angry at the fact that she was assigned to desk work for the next five months. Perhaps she would have no idea that it was he who had orchestrated the entire thing. But to hope for that was to pray that Beth was an utter simpleton, and had she actually been that, Holmes would have never married her. No; his wife was sharp as a tack, and she knew him and his methods almost as well as he knew hers.

She would be angry, and as depraved as it was to think it, Holmes felt that Beth was incredibly beautiful when she was in a full rage. As he walked up the steps and unlocked the door to his flat, he imagined that in short time, he would quite possibly be witnessing the most radiant Elizabeth Lestrade-Holmes he'd ever seen.

And yet, no books flew at his head. No shouts of indignation assaulted his ears. As he gazed around the principle room, shrugging off the trench and allowing it to rest over the back of a chair, he saw nothing was out of place. All books were neatly stacked (or neatly stacked for him) on the shelves, the desk on which his and now Beth's joint and radically amped up computer system sat was tidy and well put together, no doors hanging open or various internet pages open and up on the screen. The pillows were all in their respective places on the chairs and settee, as was his wife, now that Holmes walked into the room further and saw the familiar brown head of hair resting comfortably on the couch.

He took a moment to admire her, for it was true what everyone said; women, though they grew in size, appeared to be just as gorgeous and perhaps even more so when they were pregnant. He glanced at the old wrist watch he wore. 4:56pm. He supposed he ought to wake her as he knew she would want dinner soon, but she seemed to be sleeping rather solidly. Softly smiling, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and bent down, pressing a gentle, sweet kiss to the side of her head before standing up and heading for the kitchen.

"Holmes?"

_Almost_, he thought, wincing as he heard his name and turning around to gaze at the woman on the couch. Carefully, knowing that just because his wife was still half asleep did not mean he was safe from a perfectly aimed projectile, he walked back over and knelt in front of her. She blinked blearily at him and rubbed her eyes.

"…time is it?"

"Almost time for supper," Holmes grinned, "I thought a pasta dish might be appropriate."

"Yeah, you'd better start sucking up." Beth sat up at the mention of her favorite food group, pulling the blanket around her and looked around. "That was a cheap, sneaky move you pulled."

"Perhaps, but done only with your best interests in mind." Holmes rose and sat on the couch next to his wife, gathering her to him. "How long were you expecting to stay fully in the field?"

"I could have handled it."

"_You _could have handled it yes. You do every day, and I have no doubt of it. However, in case you haven't looked in the mirror lately, you are beginning to show your condition, your reflexes are becoming less reliable, and your energy levels are diminishing more and more every day…" he felt and heard her defeated sigh and Holmes squeezed Elizabeth to him even more. "You are carrying a child, Beth. There is no shame is admitting that because of this fact, you are physically inhibited and hindered from performing your full duties."

"I _was_ goingto put myself behind a desk, you know."

Holmes quirked an eyebrow. "When?"

"Probably at the beginning of the third trimester."

Holmes shook his head. "And so you would put yourself and the baby at risk. I love you for your stubbornness, Elizabeth, but sometimes I am also in fear because of it." He moved back as she looked at him, a spark of…something, he couldn't tell just yet, coming to her eyes. Her voice came out in a croak.

"Do you really think I'd do something so stupid as to put _our child_ in danger? Holmes, if I didn't think I could safely do my job and be pregnant _and_ be married all at the same time, I'd go to Grayson and ask for my medical leave early! The fact that you stepped in and _made _all of that happen _now_ is just…" she shook her head. "You didn't even talk to me about it."

Well, she got him on that one. Instantly gone was his normal arrogant look, and replaced by it was one of humility. "You are quite right," he finally murmured. "I apologize for that misstep. I did not want an argument."

Beth smirked. "You wanted to be right and you wanted to get your way." Holmes nodded once.

"And in admitting to that, you also admit that if you argue with me, I'll be right most of the time and I'll get my way most of the time, and it's because of that that you felt the need to be all sneaky and secretive about this little maneuver regarding me and my job." Her smirk only got wider and Holmes had to concede defeat on that point. He hung his head for a moment before leaning it back against the settee and sighing. "I shall be paying for this for some time." None the less, he was smiling as he felt his wife's head snuggle underneath his chin. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I should have stayed home to meet you."

"Why's that?"

"Because my leaving Baker Street gave you time to calm yourself, which gave you time to think, which, in turn, gave you time to plot and form your argument. Had I been here for you to rant and rave at, I would have been able to win the argument."

"But you ran out to go shopping _and_ you strategically ditched your Inverness for the coat I bought you, which you haven't worn since you got it-oh, _that_ reminds me!" She sat up and looked him in the eye. "If you're going to mother me about not doing so much at work anymore, then that means I get to bother you about your not getting enough rest. Watson said you didn't sleep at all last night."

Holmes groaned. "I told him not to mention that."

Lestrade laughed out loud and nudged him. "You know what I want?"

"Your pasta?"

"My pasta."


	3. People of Interest

**Authors Note: **Here be chapter three much to your glee for all of you to see and all of you to read! I don't really know what made me break into a rhyme there, lame as it was, but c'est la vie! Reviews, reviews, reviews! I love them, and there are very little for me to look at right now! There's a bit of a plot twist at the end; hope you enjoy. I think it sets up what _could_ (I stress that word) happen later on. Many thanks to Jack of all Suits for the beta!

**Chapter Three**

It had been a week since Beth had been notified she would be regulated to desk duty. She wasn't about to admit it to Holmes or to Grayson, but as she flew home from work, Lestrade was a little grateful that they'd forced this new assignment on her. Her 17th week of child bearing had just ended and her 18th was beginning tomorrow, and she couldn't help but think back on the conversation she'd had with her boss seven days ago and remember what he'd told her.

Sure enough, the ankles were beginning to swell, though not heavily, her back was complaining a little more at being moved at all, and various aches in her calves manifested themselves at all times of the day and night. None of this was extremely painful, but it was just annoying enough to make her want to spend the duration of her pregnancy lying in bed.

But today was a day that she was going to grin and bear the pain and the exhaustion. It was nearing noon now, and she and Holmes had an appointment at 12:30 with her obstetrician, Dr. Novak. As Beth piloted the cruiser down and landed somewhat roughly in front of their flat, she couldn't help the giddiness that was bubbling up inside. She'd had ultrasounds before, and they were amazing to look at, but this appointment would mark the first time she and Holmes would be able to see their son or daughter actually _look_ like little human being!

Lifting up the hatch, she stuck her foot out of the hover cruiser and made to get out, but the shutting of a door caught her attention. She looked up and over the roof of the vehicle and was surprised to see her husband bounding down the stairs in all due haste. "Where's the fire?" Beth laughed, greeting Holmes with a kiss on the cheek as he walked over to her.

"I didn't want you to climb the stairs needlessly, so I came to meet you. Come now; get in the cruiser, on the passenger side if you please. I shall fly us there."

"Holmes, you can't pilot a police cruiser, you don't have the sufficient license; it's against the law!"

"Pure poppycock my dear, I have my superior officer with me." He guided her to the other side and opened the hatch for her. "In you go like so, and let us be off!"

Within minutes, Holmes and Lestrade were joined with the rest of the New London lunch traffic as they headed to the New London Memorial Hospital.

"You know, I've been thinking of names lately." Beth rested her hands on her slightly swollen stomach and glanced at her husband. "But I like too many of them. I can't decide."

"Perhaps we should wait and see what the gender of the child is first before beginning the tedious task of name selecting names." Holmes smoothly bypassed a few hover vehicles before easing back into his chosen lane and continuing the conversation. "We have more than enough to worry about for now besides picking and choosing names that may or may not be used when he or she arrives."

"Maybe, but I want to be doing something. Thanks to _you_, I get to think about this all day at my _desk_." Beth nudged him playfully. Her only response was a casual roll of the eyes. "If it's a boy, we could name him after your brother…"

"Can you imagine a child being named _Mycroft_ in this day and age?" Sherlock snorted and shook his head. "I have a healthy respect for my brother, Elizabeth, but I shall not inflict such torture upon my first born. He would be laughed out of the school house…which, come to think of it, may not be such a terrible idea. The children are all packed into their study rooms like sardines; perhaps one less pupil would do the school system good?"

"The kid's got to attend school, Sherlock." Beth looked at him wryly. "Unless you want to home school them?"

"Good heavens, no. My idea of educating a child would most likely have the New London Social Services knocking on our door. Remember, Beth; I am of Victorian schooling, the _old_ and _incomplete_ way of thought."

"And yet you still have reporters calling you up asking for interviews, not to mention _you're_ the one Grayson calls when he gets stumped on a case."

"Perhaps," Sherlock exited the main thoroughfare, descending with more than normal care to ensure his wife was comfortable throughout the entire flight, "but those statements, true as they maybe, would be less amusing to the current education boards of the day."

"What if it's a girl?" Beth meandered back to the original discussion. She could have sworn she'd heard Holmes gulp and she glanced at him. "Sherlock?"

"Would it be inconvenient for you to say I desire a boy?"

"Not at all, since medical studies have confirmed it's the male's sperm that determines the sex of the child, and not the woman's egg." Beth smiled sweetly. "What's wrong with having a daughter?"

"Nothing, so long as you don't mind the fact that she would never see the light of day and would be under my constant care and vigilance until she reached the age of thirty."

Beth had no choice in the matter; she exploded in laughter, dissolving into giggles and shaking her head. "You have to be joking; you _can't_ be one of those fathers!"

"And why ever not?"

"Because your sense of fairness and equality would never allow it. Plus, I'm going to be her mother, and if you think I'm gonna let my daughter grow up sheltered and naïve to the world, you've got another thing coming."

Holmes sighed as he piloted the hover cruiser through the entrance barracks of the New London Memorial Hospital and into the landing bay. After pausing to pay the guard, he directed the vehicle forward until he found a suitable spot and parked. "It is not so much the _world_ that I am worried about. Better to say I am more concerned with the _men_ in this world and all the problems, pain, and tribulations they can cause."

Husband and wife removed themselves from the cruiser and locked it down, moving towards the entrance. "That won't be a problem," Beth assured as they walked into the hospital and headed for the elevators. "We'll raise her right, just like we'd raise a boy right. You're worrying about nothing, lover." She grinned at Holmes' obvious discomfort as they stepped into the lift. "With any luck, if we do have a daughter, she'll find a guy like her father."

She didn't miss the red hue growing over her husband's cheeks as they rode the lift up to the obstetrics wing of the hospital. After checking in and waiting for a few minutes, they were called back to their room.

"I think I get another ultrasound today." Beth hopped on the patients table, pointing out the equipment in the room and gently kicking the base of it with her feet. "They'll probably draw some blood too..."

"That must be delightful, I'm sure."

She snorted at him. "Y'know, for all of your brains and loveable arrogance, I really don't think you'd last one week as a woman."

"Quite right…those bodies of yours; I don't know how you deal with them."

"It's not like we have a choice."

At that moment, the door slid open in a way that always denoted a doctor was about to enter the room, with self importance and haste.

"Ah, Beth," Dr. Rose Novak smiled in greeting at both her patient and Holmes, a data pad in her hands as she closed the door. "How have both of you been?"

"Just fine, thank you, and yourself?" Holmes replied, settling down in the chair beside the examining table and crossing his legs. The doctor glanced at him wryly. "I was actually referring to Beth and the baby, but sure, you too!" She set down the data pad and motioned for Lestrade to lie back against the table and place her feet on the pads. "So…we're into week 18 now, correct?" She rested her hands on Beth's pelvic area and began to press lightly around the stomach area. "Any pain starting yet?"

"A little bit; I've felt worse though. There's just some discomfort in the back and my feet are starting to hurt more. I am getting more tired though."

"Perfectly normal. If you weren't in such great shape before your pregnancy you'd be feeling it a lot more." The doctor stepped back from Beth and wheeled the ultrasound over. Being that it was the 22st century, the machine had made a lot of progress since its 20th century inception. Gone were the black and white smudged pictures; replaced by pure, clean, perfectly pictures of a growing life. There were now features which allowed the ultrasound to magnify to the point where the actual embryo could be defined. Gone also were the days of being unsure if there were one or two babies to be had. Gender misidentification was a thing of the past. Unfortunately, the ridiculously cold gel was still something that had to be contended with. Beth winced as the clear substance connected with a slightly warmer-than-normal stomach and sent a chill down her spine.

"And….there we are…" Instinctively, she moved her head to see the picture on the screen, and she felt Holmes drag the chair over next to her. There he was…or she, whichever one it turned out to be. She felt a strong grip on her hand and Beth returned it, as mesmerized as she had been with the last three times the little life had been shown to her.

"Coming along very nicely," Dr. Novak smiled, the elated and simultaneously shocked grins of first time parents-to-be never ceasing to warm her heart. "Your last few blood samples have all looked normal; I expect this one will be no different. Feel free to admire the view while I take a little bit, yeah?"

There was no vocal response, but the doctor wasn't offended in the slightest. She prepared the hydro needle and was slightly amused when Beth didn't so much as flinch at the prick. "I'll be back in a moment. You two…enjoy the view."

**Chapter Three**

"All I'm saying is, she could have told us the gender of the baby, and we wouldn't be worrying about what color furniture or sheets to buy." Beth crossed her arms and looked out the window as Sherlock was in the pilot's seat once again. "Parents find out the sex of their babies all the time before actually having them. It's a smart thing to do."

"It also takes all the fun out of it," Holmes argued, rounding a bend carefully, "I would rather be surprised when the child is delivered."

Beth looked at him, arms still crossed as she smirked. "If it's a girl, you could spend the next four months getting prepared for her arrival."

"Beth, if we have a daughter, I promise you it will take me much more than four months to be adequately prepared for another female that, no doubt, will be a carbon copy of you." He placed a mark on his internal score card as his wife's jaw dropped.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she finally muttered.

"I _do_ know that Beth."

"Where are we going?" She glanced around the atmosphere outside. They weren't heading home, that was for sure. In fact, they were heading into the business district of New London.

"I thought perhaps we would drop by the store I was perusing last week."

"Last week?"

"Yes, remember that day when you came home from work rather disgruntled at the prospect of doing nothing but reports for the next few months?" As he spoke, Holmes passed over what Lestrade knew to be a very large and popular shopping mall and circled the cruiser dock. "I took the liberty of coming here and pricing some essential furniture that the child may need. I believe I have found exactly what we requirethat is both of good quality and value."

"You went shopping for baby stuff on your own?" Beth chuckled as they both got out of the cruiser and headed into the mall, which was still quite noisy even though it was after the lunch hour. "That must have been a sight for the paparazzi. I can hear the headline now; 'Famous Detective Searches for Well-Priced Crib: Details on Demand."

"Oh, more, please, I should like to hear this story," Holmes guided her onto what was literally called the 'people mover' and they rode the level escalator across the great corridors and throughways of the mall until Beth felt a tug on her shoulder, signaling to her that the store Holmes had picked was up ahead. She raised her eyebrows in approval as they entered. "Not too shabby, Holmes. Can't help but notice the 'old world' influence though."

"It's never too early to begin instilling culture in the little one." He guided his wife further into the store and very quickly, Beth realized she was being shown to a particular section of the shop. "I didn't figurewe would need anything terribly technological. A simple crib with a matching rocking chair and dresser was all I was raised with when growing up." He stopped in front of a set and displayed it proudly with a sweeping hand gesture. "However, as this is a child of two worlds, I know that he or she will eventually be exposed to wonders I never had the chance to experience when I was younger. I thought this particular set would be a good compromise."

To begin with, the crib was made with actual wood, not the synthesized plastic or cool metal that most were made of nowadays. However, it had been fused with late 21st century wiring to allow for a motorized mobile which, upon closer inspection, allowed for videos and music to be shown to the child that were no doubt educational in nature. For the display, soft cotton fabric covered a down pillow and various other cushiony objects, and there were the few old loved stuffed bears lounging around as well.

Holmes watched Beth carefully as she scrutinized the set before her. "If you don't like it we can continue to look, of course-"

"No. No, I like this," Beth smiled softly, running her hand along the soft wood, a far off look in her gaze. "I gotta say I'm a little surprised you've taken such a lead hand in all of this."

"Am I not supposed to be finding things for the child on my own?"

"No, you should be!" Beth rounded the last corner of the crib to stand next to him. "It's just that most men don't, that's all. It's kinda nice, having a hands-on husband."

There were so many things Sherlock could have said to that innocent compliment, but being the gentleman that he was, he kept them firmly in his head and mouth, simply offering his arm to wrap around his wife's shoulders. "Shall we buy it today or wait?"

"Where would we put it?"

"In the room we have set aside for the child, of course."

"Oh, great, so all the dust and cobwebs can fall all over it." Beth stepped back up to the crib again and rested on its railing. "We can buy it and then have it delivered, yeah?" At Holmes nod, she grinned and slapped the wood lightly. "Let's do it then!"

In no time at all, Holmes had paid for the furniture set and both he and Lestrade were walking through the mall once more, hand in hand. Business had picked up considerably for the stores as the local schools let out and the kids, as they often did, descended upon the shops for after class meet ups and shopping extravaganzas.

"'ey! Mr. 'Olmes!"

"Seriously?" Lestrade grumbled as she heard the familiar cockney tones of one Baker Street Irregular Deidre.

"Ah, Deidre…and Wiggins!" Holmes greeted them warmly while Beth held back. It wasn't that she didn't _like_ Deidre, but she found that she had to be in a particular head space to deal with her rather spunky, prying, peppy nature. She was nowhere near that head space currently. She and Holmes had an appointment with the doctor, _she_ and Holmes were probably going to grab an early dinner soon, _she_ _and Holmes_ had just bought the baby's first set of furniture. Beth wanted a day with her husband so they could do baby things. Together. Alone.

Alone together. _Yeah, that makes sense, Lestrade._

"Inspector!"

"Huh? Yeah, what?" Beth looked down at Deidre's expectant face. "I asked 'ow the baby was comin' along!"

"Oh, fine, he's fine," Beth nodded her head and smiled.

"It's a _boy?!"_

"What? Oh, no, no, no! No, I was just referring to the baby as a 'he' for…you know….oh forget it." She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and looked around. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Deidre wanted to get the scoop on some guy that's been sending her love notes, wants me to go with her so that it doesn't _look_ like she's tryin' to get the scoop on him." Wiggins answered, and both Lestrade and Holmes couldn't help but notice the rather large scowl on his face. Beth wasn't sure but she could have sworn she saw just the hint of jealousy behind Wiggin's dark eyes and skin. If he was feeling such an emotion however, the young man didn't let on anymore than that, and Deidre was completely oblivious to anything her friend was saying or doing at the moment.

"-so cute, really! 'is fashion sense is wild, the drawin's he does are fantastic, and he's got such a head for what's cool!" Deidre was practically a puddle on the floor right in front of the married couple.

"Well, I must say, that is marvelous news, Deidre. I'm sure you will let us know the moment your courtship begins with this young man?"

"Oh, I hope I get tha' lucky, Mr. 'Olmes!" With that, Deidre grabbed hold of Wiggins' hand and began pulling him away towards a music store just across the corridor. "C'mon, mate! We got a date with Mr. Handsome!"

"I'm thrilled, really…too much for words," Wiggins grimaced and, with a sympathetic gaze from Sherlock and Beth dutifully followed Deidre away.

"Ah, young love."

"And jealousy," Beth added shaking her head as they began walking again, her arm tucked into her husband's.

"You noticed that as well?"

"Uh, yeah, it wasn't that hard to notice the glare he was burning into the store front right across from us." Beth chuckled. "Who would have thought Wiggins would ever be interested in Deidre?"

"And why ever should he not be? Our young Deidre is quite intelligent for her age, vibrant, and an exceedingly happy soul. In my humble opinion, their two personalities would meld wonderfully together."

"Maybe, but Wiggins is kinda shy when he's around the girls—oh! _Ice-cream!_" Beth pointed at the hover stand a few feet away from them. It was a circular platform with at least a dozen long pipe-like stands protruding out of it. Atop the pipes were baskets filled with various flavors of ice cream and standing in the middle was an employee, dutifully handed out cones and bowls of the sweet treat.

"I need that," Beth decided out loud and headed over to the stand, coming back moments later with a bowl of what Holmes knew to be double chocolate fudge and a small dish of something else as well. "Ah, only the best flavor in the world; pistachio nut. Excellent, my dear Beth. I thank you."

"Yeah, well, seeing as you've been busy getting the baby's furniture set and carting me around all day, I figured you could use some kind of reward." Beth grinned and pecked him lightly on the nose, living a small dab of sticky chocolate on it. Holmes arched an eyebrow.

"And here I thought no one could ever accuse me of being a…what is the word, 'brown noser'."

His wife's laughter followed the joke as she tried to wipe the treat off his nose with a napkin, and as she was doing so, Holmes just happened to look up and. When he did, his eyes, which had been filled with happiness a second before took on their narrow and pointed featuresas they normally didwhen he saw something which perplexed him. Lestrade was still busy trying to get the ice cream off his nose, and unfortunately, her helpful hand was in the way of his sight. Holmes reached up and steadied her, stopping her from blocking his view. Beth frowned.

"What is it?" She followed his gaze carefully and her eyes wound up where his did. A young woman, younger than Beth for certain, with long brown hair that curled at the tips waswalking with two rather bulky men at her side. Lestrade had a hard time believing that either of them was her boyfriend, but she couldn't understand what had captivated her husband so. She shook her head and glanced back up at him, both of their deserts completely forgotten. "Who is she?"

At that moment, the girl must have gotten the impression she was being watched, because she looked up, and her eyes locked with those of Holmes. Her step faltered somewhat, but not enough that the men by her side noticed, and she recovered quite well. She bent down, appearing to tighten the boot that clad her foot and as she did so, long heavy hair spilling over her shoulders, she glanced up at the couple, smirking confidently. Neither Holmes nor Lestrade could miss the pompous malevolence that lurked there.

Quickly, finishing with her boot, she stood up and continued on, her chin raised a little higher in the air as she passed them across the hallway, the men by her side not even noticing the couple she'd been glaring at.

"Sherlock?" Beth stood looked back up at him. "Who was that girl?"

"That, dear wife, was Annabelle Wilson."

"Annabe-you mean the girl Moriarty kidnapped to…oh." Suddenly the ice cream she'd gotten didn't seem so appetizing, and she tossed it into a trash receptacle droid that meandered by.

"Well, I suppose that's enough for one day," Holmes also threw away his dish and took Beth by the elbow. "Come my dear; I'll take you home."


	4. Pregnancy Pains

**Authors Note: ** Ugh, I am so sorry for the long wait for the update! But, the semester is over and the summer is beginning, and that means a lot more time for writing! So, take a look at chapter four, leave me a sweet review on how you like it (and yes, feel free to yell at me for taking so long to update the story). I'm working on chapter five as we speak.

**Pregnancy Pains**

Her stomach was beginning to take a pregnant shape. At two and a half months pregnant, Annabelle could finally start to see just the hint of a bump in her belly, and she'd been waiting exactly eight weeks and two days to catch a glimpse at such a beautiful sight. More to the point, she knew the child's father would be eager to see her progression when he came by soon.

Moriarty hadn't been lying when he'd told her he had various hide outs all around England. From the country to the city, to the sewers…he even had an apartment on the moon in Galileo City, but for the purposes of housing and keeping her safe whilst carrying his heir, he'd chosen a country home complete with rolling fields and a big back yard. Such estates were hard to come by so close to New London, so he'd used a house just on the western border of Berkshire to house her and their soon to be new addition. In just seven months, James Moriarty would have an heir to his criminal empire, and Annabelle Wilson would have a child of her own given to her by none other than the Napoleon of Crime.

It truly didn't bother her what the man did. He was a criminal; he was a murderer, a thief, he'd kidnapped and tortured people, threatened and maimed them, displaced families, come up with doomsday scenarios…Annabelle had known guys like that all her life, zed, her own father had been some third rate robber himself. James Moriarty though…he was the real deal. Any criminal worth their salt took their lead from him because of his philosophy on the art of crime. No one ever thought of crime as an art any more, but it was, it _truly was. _

Stealing something wasn't just about performing a smash and grab and hoping you got what you came for. There was a psychology to it; a science of knowing what one was stealing and from whom one was stealing it from. Normally anything that was sighted to be stolen was also secured in some way shape or form, but being that there were all different kinds of ways to keep various bobbles and trinkets safe, one had to understand the person that owned it; understand how a person thought, and one understood how he or she kept their most prized possessions under lock and key. Only when a person understood all of that was when he or she could truly call themselves a master thief. The same thing could be said of committing murder, staging a hostage, lifting hover cars, or committing any number of acts that the elite majority felt were non-conducive to the human struggle of maintaining civility.

Annabelle had decided when she'd first met the infamous Moriarty that his philosophy on the how's and why's to commit crime were what attracted her to him. Why should a top few have the power to decide what everyone else could or could not do? Why should they have the power to decide right from wrong, good from evil? If one had the power to do something, why shouldn't they exercise it? It wasn't their fault if they were successful; it was the fault of their victim!

But, unfortunately, the world just didn't think like they did, and neither did ninety nine percent of those that were classified as criminals. Most of them thought it was just a big game; steal a piece of jewelry here, rough up some old guy there…hardly any of them thought of the _art_ behind it. All they thought about were the possessions they could accumulate.

But that wouldn't be a problem with her little one. Annabelle placed a soft hand over her just barely swelling belly and smiled as she gazed in the mirror ahead of her. When he was born, and Annabelle knew in her heart it was a boy, she and his father would make sure he understood the prestige and responsibility the child had been born into. He would take it seriously, he would not dishonor it, he would grasp every conceivable notion of committing crimes and he would _not_ allow himself to be tainted by those who were less knowledgeable.

And, he would continue the fight against Holmes, and the little whelp that was growing in his wife's womb. The brunette strode over to the large bay window which over looked a spacious back yard, her hand still locked protectively over her stomach. She thought back to that day in the mall two weeks ago. James had given her a fair amount in the way of allowance money, and she'd decided to get a head start on maternity and baby clothes, as well as peruse some furniture and toys for the baby.

And who should she come across but the happy couple themselves? Holmes had recognized her on the spot. No doubt he'd seen some screen stills of her when he had been investigating her 'kidnapping' and etched her face into his memory in that way. And of course she knew who Sherlock Holmes was; he was always in the holo-news, helping New Scotland Yard and that zealot wife of his with the crimes they were too stupid to solve. She'd never seen Elizabeth Lestrade before however; in fact, that day two weeks ago was the first time she'd gotten a look at her. She was pretty…in a brutish sort of way, and Anne supposed she could see why Moriarty had taken a shine to her. After all, men liked women they could break, they liked a challenge; they _needed_ a challenge to keep them interested. Anne had figured this out shortly after the professor had given her her discharge papers, so to speak.

But in the end, the little inspector had gotten away, and as Annabelle rested on the small bench just below the three tiered window, she couldn't lie to herself and say she wasn't glad. Except Moriarty had taken a vile of her blood…she remembered it, he'd told her to go and retrieve it from the medical basement just has the police were breaking into the mansion. Annabelle couldn't help but glower at yard outside. Here she was, carrying his child, and he was still worrying about that stupid yardie. It wasn't that she didn't understand; she did! She completely understood Moriarty's reasoning and methods behind this particular project. She even had to commend him on it, for it was truly genius and would make for some wonderful fun in a few months…but Annabelle was still a young woman, and prone to jealousy.

"But there is one thing that woman can't do for him," she murmured, gazing down at her stomach with a superior smile on her face, "she can't give him _you_."

She could not _wait_ for this child to arrive. There was a time when Annabelle believed she would never be able to have a child of her own. She knew there were treatments and procedures available for women who had trouble conceiving, but she didn't have that kind of money. If James hadn't come along and whisked her away, she'd still be with boring Kevin and working as a waitress at some seedy bar. She'd always known she was better than that, and here she was, a home of her own, a staff and body guards to wait on her every need and desire, and in just over six months, the start of a family she'd always wanted.

She was under no delusions though. Anne knew what was expected of her. Moriarty thought of her with some affection, otherwise he wouldn't have kept her (and kept her well). He could have kept her near to him and his entire operation, stuck in some old, dark dank room with nothing to do. He hadn't done that, nothing even close to it, but Anne also knew that none of these material things meant anything. What could be given to her could just as easily be taken away. Her job was simple; deliver a healthy child, someone that Moriarty could start his legacy with, raise and nurture it as best as she was able, and most importantly of all, stay out of the good professor's personal affairs. Entice him, enchant him, beguile him, dazzle his senses with her beauty and seductive ways she would, but nose around in his business life she would not.

Much; but she'd sworn to herself, the second Anne had seen Holmes and Lestrade in the mall, that if they or their offspring so much as ever dared to think of laying a hand on her kid…she would make all three of them wish they'd never been brought into this world, and in Holmes' case, _brought back._

"Miss Annabelle?"

"Yes?" Anne tucked her hair behind her ears and turned around, putting her hands on her hips. "The items you purchased from the stores on your last outing have arrived. Shall I tell them to begin bringing everything in?"

"That would be _lovely_, Violet, thank you." Anne followed the maid out of her room and down the hallway, which over looked a fairly large foyer. She stood there for a moment, watching the delivery men maneuver the hover lift through the door. "Careful with all that!" She bounced down the stairs and headed over to one of the employee's. "That's all very expensive; I assume you have some data pad for me to punch?"

"Yea, 'ere you go, miss!" The man pulled a small data pad from his pocket and handed it to her. Smiling, Anne punched in the name 'Brigette Summers' and handed it back to him. "This can all be moved up stairs and down the hallway to the left. The nursery is last door on the corridor."

"Yes ma'am, ro'ight away!" He and the four others that came with him immediately set on moving the furniture and other accessories to the aforementioned place, Anne looking on eagerly. In almost seven months, the real fun would begin, but for now, she was content to stand and direct traffic.

She was falling into this 'Woman of the House' role pretty well, if she did say so herself.

**Pregnancy Pains**

Out of the test tube and into the hydro chamber. Moriarty surveyed the large, watery world encased in glass before him, stroking his dark goatee steadily. She was coming along nicely, he decided. Five months and already, she was about the age and size of a toddler. Fenwick, he had to admit, was a genius when it came to genetics and infusing the cloning with heightened cellular growth, though difficult, was beginning to pay off.

"I really must commend your efforts, Fenwick." Moriarty turned and gazed at the grotesque man standing in his lab station. "You've out done yourself this time, really."

"Thank you, Master." He inclined his blue head forwards in thanks, shifting his beady eyes to the massive tank in front of him. "She will be ready shortly after your mistress gives birth."

"Fenwick, I must say If I hear you call that woman my 'mistress' once more, I shall have to severely beat you." The master criminal sent an annoyed look the geneticists way making it clear that as valuable he thought the man to be, he was continually crossing a line that he'd been warned not to even approach.

"What shall I call her then?"

"I am not married, Fenwick, therefore she cannot be my mistress. She is the mother of my future child, my heir…my legacy." Moriarty ambled over to the lab station and ran a lazy finger over the edge of one of the tables, atop which various equipment and accessories were placed. "You may call her Miss. Wilson; that is all."

"Alright, alright," Fenwick waved him off as he turned to work other matters. "How is _Miss. Wilson_ at any rate? Faring nicely?"

"Her pregnancy is going extremely well. In as little as seven weeks we shall know the gender of the child. I confess I hope for a boy, but shall be happy for any vessel to carry on my work. A girl will be much more difficult to tame and train, but…" Moriarty shrugged, "there are benefits that come with the feminine disposition that men simply do not possess."

"I am sure any child conceived by you and Miss. Anne will be strong if it's a male, sleek and seductive if you're given a girl."

Moriarty arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure I didn't just hear you hope for any possible future daughter of mine to be whorish in any way?"

"Of course not, Master," Fenwick gazed over his shoulder at his boss. "I would treat her with the same amount of respect as I would treat her mother."

"And don't you forget it." Grabbing his long tailed coat, Moriarty shrugged it on and set for the door. "I shall return in a few weeks time. Keep me updated on her progress."

**Pregnancy Pains**

"Holmes old boy, I must tell you; you've been rather tense these last few weeks." Watson carefully piloted the hover coach through the sky lines of New London.

"I have reason to be."

"I have no doubt of it. Seeing Miss. Wilson again must have been quite a shock."

"Not so much a shock as a reminder that Moriarty is still at large and as long as he continues to be so, he is a danger to everyone in New London." Holmes left off the obvious statement that could have accompanied that sentence and what had been a constant fear of his for these past five months; that as long as Moriarty was allowed to roam free, he was an extraordinary threat to him and to Elizabeth.

"I have been too complacent, Watson," Holmes sighed crossing his arms and slumping down into the seat a little further. "For these last few months, I have been content to watch and wait, to be patient for his next move, but seeing Annabelle Wilson that day in the mall…observing how comfortable she was in her position, the level of protection Moriarty has garnered for her." He smirked as he gazed out the window. "He must have used Annabelle's own 'supplies' if you will to get what he wanted. Very mysterious that he didn't just use her to begin with, that he involved Beth."

"When the inspector briefed us on the situation, she did say that Moriarty had expressed an interest in her genes." Watson raised his eyebrows. "We mustn't forget the fact that whilst the professor could not have possibly known of your relationship with her, he did know that the both of you were very fond of one another. And according to Inspector Lestrade, Annabelle Wilson was going to be the one to carry the child in any event. It is possible that after the loss of Elizabeth, Moriarty was able to procure another donor."

"Or he just used hers," Holmes asserted again, "it was a last resort, but what Moriarty wants, Moriarty gets, and he wanted someone to carry on his legacy of crime and corruption. I'm sure Annabelle Wilson wasn't who he wanted to be the mother of this child, but shrewd man that he is, he weighed his options and decided that _a_ child was better than _no _child at all."

Watson piloted the hover coach expertly through the air lines and bared left towards a grove of trees. Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Middlesex Park, Watson? Why on Earth are we here?"

"I do apologize, old boy, but I am sworn to secrecy in this matter." Holmes could have sworn he detected a glimmer of secret happiness in his ocular depths, but he kept silent, preferring to wait and see what would befall him as the hover coach touched down gently on the soft grass beneath.

He looked around carefully as he got out of the coach. It was broad day light, the sun shining brightly through the last remaining bit of green New London had to offer. He recognized the plot of land immediately of course. This was where he'd taken Beth for their first date. However, unlike the last time he was here, looking around, he could see no horses waiting to be mounted for lazy ride along the parks trails. His uncanny cobalt eyes did however see a young woman sitting beneath a very large oak tree, a blanket spread out beneath her and a basket sitting just a few feet away. Beth leaned against the tree, as her stomach was now becoming too large for her to sit cross legged comfortably and waved to him.

"I figured we could all do with a day off." She smiled as both Holmes and Watson walked up to her, greeting Watson with a nod of thanks for dragging her husband out of their flat. "So, I came up with amazing idea of having a picnic."

"How splendid," Holmes glared up at Watson, but the droid only nodded towards the ground, indicating he should sit, "you organized a picnic, in the middle of a park where hardly any of the population of New London comes anymore and in one of the more secluded spots. I must confess; I hope Moriarty isn't watching our movements too closely. One might think this the perfect time to strike."

"Or one might think that after the trouble your wife went through to set up this _lovely_ outing, you could thank her for it and stop your grumbling for a minute or two." She crossed her arms tightly around her growing bosom and glared up at him, clearly displeased with his first choice of how to greet her.

A great sigh heaved itself from the man's chest and Holmes gazed down at the woman before him, eyes conveying shame at his greeting of her. "My apologies."

She glanced at the spot next to her. "Sit down." He did so.

"You know how much I love you, how much I care about you, and yes, even how much I admire you, even though I might be sick for admitting it." Beth graced him with a smirk while Watson looked on. "But ever since you saw that woman, you have been _driving me up the wall_ with what you term your 'incessant nagging.'" Holmes opened his mouth to defend himself, but Lestrade held up a finger, warning him that for the moment, she had the floor, or in this case, ground. "You have been interrogating me left and right about every place I go, how long I'm going to be out, _demanding_ that I take Watson with me if you're unavailable…my videophone log now has more calls from _you_ than it does from Grayson, other inspectors, sources, and reporters _combined_ and I didn't think that was possible!"

Holmes shifted uncomfortably on the soft patch of grass next to her, wanting to look anywhere else but at his wife, but he was finding that very difficult to do at the moment. When Elizabeth was angry or highly annoyed as was the case here, it was hard to pay attention to anything else _but_ her, for she commanded respect in every aspect of her personality. H e felt her small hand feeling for his and he grasped at it tightly, his thumb ghosting over the soft whiteness of it.

"I know you're worried," Beth murmured, "I know you're wondering what Moriarty has up his sleeve. I know you've been working every day and every night trying to figure out exactly what he's up to and where he is and if he's a threat; but putting me under house arrest isn't going to make things any easier for us."

A variety of emotions stirred within the detectives' soul at his wife's words. He had to admit her words had a seamless logic to them. Holmes had a tendency to obsess over Moriarty, especially when he knew the bastard was up to something and he couldn't prove it or gain any information on him. Such was the present case. So, he had the decency to look soundly humbled and even slightly ashamed at his over bearing actions as of late.

"I am truly sorry, Elizabeth." He kissed her hand lightly and didn't miss the sigh of relief from her that the conversation (if one could call it that; she'd been the only one talking) was, for the most part over. "It was never my intention to make you feel a prisoner in our home or to hound you…the events of the past six months or so have proven to me the depths to which Moriarty will sink to achieve his ends. It is my goal much as I can to see that he never has the ability to use such methods again."

"He won't," Lestrade assured him, grinning. "I'm carrying an ionizer everywhere I go now, and it's true what they say; the protective hormones that run around a woman's body when she's pregnant are ridiculously high and hard to control." Her eyes took on an almost devilish gleam and Holmes couldn't suppress the shiver that traveled down his spine. "I might be an officer of the law, but I swear to you, the next time I see him, I won't hesitate to put this ionizer-" she un-holstered the weapon and held it up for him to view, "on the highest setting and _ba-last_ him with it ten times over."

"Then please allow me to be nowhere in your line of sight when do, for you might miss him and hit me." Holmes grinned and the jest earned him a punch in the shoulder which he took good naturedly. Normally he would have pulled her towards him with a slightly roughness that he knew she enjoyed, but as she was becoming heavier with child, he tugged her gently to him and kissed her. "I promise; I will endeavor to stifle you less, though my worry for your safety and that of the child will never cease."

"Good." Beth snuggled her head underneath his chin and closed her eyes. "Right back at ch'ya."

"Beth?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is it possible we may eat now?"

Holmes could feel her slump in his arms, a sign of her disbelief that he could change interests so quickly, but never the less, she sat up and reached for the basket. "Hey Watson! When are the kids supposed to get here?"

Watson, who had decided to slough off to the side to give the couple some privacy, now came back over to address the inspectors' question. "I believe Deidre said she and her young friend, along with Wiggins and Tennyson would meet us here shortly after their lessons were over; around 3:15 she said."

"Well then that gives us plenty of time to hang out and eat and just…you know…_lounge_ around." With that, the two humans set to eating their rather late lunch while Watson chattered on about the many conversations he had been having with the Baker Street Irregulars, specifically Wiggins and Deidre, and not necessarily together.

"So let me get this straight," Beth bit off a piece of one of the many sandwiches Watson had prepared for the picnic and leaned back against the tree. "Wiggins is insanely jealous about Deidre and this new guy of hers…and he's not even gonna _try_ and win her?"

"Perhaps our Mr. Wiggins believes discretion to be the better part of valor?" Holmes suggestion did not elate Lestrade by any means but she let him carry out his point. "Deidre is not the traditional sort of girl. She may misinterpret Wiggins fighting for her affections as a displaced claim of property upon her, and then the young man will be sorely defeated, for not only will he have managed to anger the young lady, but he will also undoubtedly push her into the arms of the very man he detests."

"What you say is very true, Holmes; on the other hand, I'm not so sure Miss. Deidre is aware of young Wiggins affections for her." Sitting on the ground was an odd way for Watson to try to relax...that is, if robots were capable of relaxing, but there he was, his metal body shining brightly against the sun's rays as he briefed his two friends on the goings on of their juvenile compatriots for the past three weeks. "In fact," the droid continued, "I am quite sure that, when the possibility was broached in the most subtle of ways by yours truly, Deidre seemed so against the idea that I finally dropped the subject all together."

Lestrade paused mid chew. "You mean she was turned off?"

"I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, Inspector. Deidre is not a machine. I would find it impossible to turn her 'off'." His face became even more confused as Beth began laughing, trying to cover her mouth as she still had food in it.

"What I believe the inspector meant to ask was if Deidre was un-flattered by the possibility of Wiggins showing her an affection that was more of the romantic variety than of the platonic one." Thankfully, Holmes stepped in to save the conversation from going onto an entirely different topic and Watson seemed much more at home with this brand of description. "I should say not, Holmes. In fact, Deidre seemed to think it was impossible that Wiggins could feel such a way about her, citing that they had been friends for so long it would be difficult for him to see her in such a light."

Both detectives' eyes, ears, _and_ brains perked up at that last sentence.

"'It would be difficult for _him_ to see _her_ in such a light?' You're _sure_ you remembered Deidre saying it exactly like that, Watson?"

"Positive, Inspector."

"Well that's interesting," Beth grinned, "that kind of implies that she wants him to be attracted to her but is giving up because they've had this platonic thing for so long…"

"Oh Beth, please, for the love of God, do not go meddling in the affairs of _teenagers_," Holmes implored, delivering her a rather annoyed gaze with a simple sardonic roll of the eyes. "I am sure that in fifteen years or so, we shall have more dramatic happenings regarding the opposite sex of child than we could ever ask for; I do not wish to get a head start on that experience now."

Beth pouted, but changed the subject none the less. "So, Watson; I hear you're ready for an upgrade?"


End file.
